Hello, Penny
by awildthing
Summary: What had happened to the confident, educated, intellectual Percy Weasley? He is gone, I told myself, and he left with Penelope Clearwater.


_A/N: I know the event of Penelope Clearwater's Petrification was in April, and I have guessed at the date when said event occurred. I am not certain of the accuracy of my guess._

April Eighteenth, 1993.

I visited Penny in the infirmary today. She lay as stiff and unmoving as yesterday. Prior to her Petrification she had been coming to meet me in the Great Hall for the Quidditch match. Professor McGonagall had it cancelled because of more attacks, and I searched the crowd but could not find Penny. Both Harry Potter and Ronald, my younger brother, were brought to the infirmary to visit their friend, Hermione Granger, and I retired to the common room and wrote a short note to my dear Penelope. Hermes returned to me almost at once, still clutching my hasty letter in his talons. I knew then that something was not right.

My mind was telling me to visit the infirmary. I decided to do so, hoping that my search for Penny would not end there. I would simply drop in and have a quick word with Madam Pomfrey, and Professor McGonagall if she was present. I arrived at the hospital wing and pushed open the doors, holding my breath and examining the inhabitants of the small cots pushed up along the walls: young Colin Creevey, Mrs Norris (Filch sat sentinel beside her bedside), Justin Finch-Fletchley, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington (who floated atop his bed), Hermione Granger, and-

My breath exited in a whoosh and I must say I abandoned all propriety and all but ran to the last filled bed, second from the end, containing the curly-haired girl who had captured my attentions: _Penelope. _I stared down at her incapacitated form and wept (inconspicuously, of course, what would the Professors think, _so_ unprofessional) and threw myself down onto a chair. I held her hand and memorized her face. I cleared my throat. I was aware, of course, that my dear Penelope could not hear a word I said, and I was somewhat relieved that she would not notice the strangled tones that accompanied my voice. I cleared my throat again and began.

_Hello, Penny. _

My voice broke and I hung my head, ashamed. What had happened to the confident, educated, intellectual Percy Weasley? He is gone, I told myself, and he left with Penelope Clearwater. I found that I could not continue speaking to the prone, lifeless form beside me, and I fled the room (with as much dignity as I could muster).

But today, I spoke more. Sitting in the same chair as the day before, I started off the same way, and I told her:

_Hello, Penny. I am so sorry._

I stood and left, my head bowed and a sigh upon my down-turned lips.

April Nineteenth, 1993.

I have seen Harry Potter and Ronald visiting Hermione Granger, and I try to avoid intersecting their visiting times because I become embarrassed if caught talking to a Petrified person. Every day I bring Penelope her homework, and the pile on her bedside table steadily grows. It has been three days since Penny has spoken to me and I cannot bear it. She stares up at the ceiling, unseeing, her eyes glassy but dull and I remember when she looked at me and smiled. As usual, I clear my throat and begin with what I have already said.

_Hello, Penny. I am so sorry. I have brought you your homework. I like it when you smile._

I hear Ronald's loud, obnoxious voice and mutter to myself, picking up my bag and hissing on the way out to _Be quiet, you'll disturb the whole castle!_

In other news, Professor McGonagall has asked us Prefects to patrol the hallways at night and keep a lookout for any suspicious behaviour. She has told us all in strictest confidence that she strongly believes Hogwarts will be closed should any more attacks occur. Doing this, I feel important and not so useless (us Prefects have many duties, and for an aspiring Head Boy, I must do all that I can) but the emptiness beside me where Penelope used to walk is tangible.

I worry, also, for my youngest sibling and only sister, Ginevra. She has become pale and jumpy lately, and I fear that her first year at Hogwarts will not be what she expected it to be. She has been waiting ever since the oldest, Bill, first went. I can only hope that the Chamber of Secrets nonsense dies down and allows her to have a normal year. I would like for her first year to be a smooth, easy transition into school; I fear it will not be so, however, because the aforementioned nonsense seems to have scared her silly. Of course, my ridiculous brothers, Fred and George, have not helped in this sense; they find it 'funny' to jump out from behind statues and make her scream. Would that I could hide my embarrassing bond with those twins…

April Twentieth, 1993.

Whilst visiting Penelope again today, I received a shock in the form of Professor McGonagall arriving to sit beside me at Penelope's bedside. She gave me her condolences and I accepted them graciously, of course, and then she fell silent and I thought I saw a tear form in her eye. She then informed me of a notice from the Minister of Magic stating that Rubeus Hagrid would have to be detained indefinitely, until the attacker of the muggle-borns was apprehended. I, being the bright student that I am, put two and two together at once. Professor McGonagall rose and bade me goodbye, leaving me to ponder this new information. After a healthy bout of thinking and deliberating, I noticed that the day was drawing to a close and I turned back to my dear Penny.

_Hello, Penny. I am so sorry. I have brought you your homework. I like your smile. I wish that I could do something but I don't know what. We- the Prefects- are ever so confused, but I swear, Penny, I swear you will be alright. I miss our studying sessions in the library and I grow ever more fearful of there being another attack. I hardly believe in this Chamber of Secrets silliness- but whoever is organizing these attacks is terribly dangerous. _

I would have continued had Madam Pomfrey not shooed me out (rather rudely, I must say).

April Twenty-First, 1993.

Today was different. I knew it when I awoke in the early hours of the morning. I rushed to dress myself and walked, with dignity, into the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey must have been asleep still, so it was with haste and near-silence that I ran to Penelope's bedside, abandoned my carefully structured sentences, my repeated statements and added words that I had put together over the past week, and let out the quickly accumulating following:

_I wish you would look at me with your lovely eyes. I don't enjoy patrolling without you, it is dreadfully tedious. I am concerned for your well-being, and I promise to continue visiting you every day. I have taken it upon myself to intercept Professor Sprout to inquire about the state of the Mandrakes, but she has taken to avoiding me. Madam Pomfrey, however, has told me that they are almost halfway near to being ready. I know how improper this must sound (and I can imagine your face colouring, were you not Petrified), but last night I dreamt of you. And the night before, actually. I dreamt of your eyes, your lips, your hair, your intelligence. It is dreadfully early, Penelope, but I would brave Madam Pomfrey's temper to tell you that I love you because I can't hold it in anymore. I know, we discussed this before and agreed that love is a frivolous, ridiculous sentiment, but I know it is true and I could not wait any longer to let you know (even though you really have no idea, because you are Petrified and cannot hear a word I am saying). Penelope, I am so confused and afraid- and I am ashamed to say so, because I am a Prefect and must stand above such foolishness and be a model to other students- but I would protect you from anything. _

At that point, the words sort of dribbled and died out and I sat back, out of breath. I clutched my seat and stared at Penelope. I left the infirmary.

May Second, 1993.

I apologize for my lack of entries in the past few days. I locked myself in the dormitory for some long, hard thinking. The news about Professor Dumbledore's sacking spread throughout the school and I admit that I, along with most students, feel desperation settling upon my shoulders. I cannot bear to visit my dear Penelope as often; I have nothing to say.

May Fourth, 1993.

It seems as if inconsistent journal entries shall become a new bad habit as I throw myself into my studies, Prefect work, and visits to the library as I strive to work out the mystery of the attacks. There must be something that I am missing, and I firmly doubt that Mr. Hagrid could have opened the Chamber of Secrets (I am now convinced of the legitimacy of the Chamber). My infirmary visits are becoming less and less numerous and I feel wretchedly about my long silences when I sit with Penny. Perhaps I should write a script.

May Tenth, 1993.

Madam Pomfrey has updated me on the progress of the Mandrakes, and I am starting to feel as if there is more hope. A long time has passed in which no attacks have occurred; perhaps the attacker has given up? I now visit Penny with renewed vigour. Professor McGonagall has a new look about her, as do the rest of the staff (excepting Professors Snape and Lockhart, the former of which always looking dank and grim, the latter of which constantly bright): hope. They are buoyed by the successful growth of the Mandrakes up until now.

Today when I visited Penny, I acted rashly and very improperly. I confessed my love to her (for the second time) and I kissed her. Her lips tasted ghastly, like dust, and they were firm and hard. I suppose that is what I get for kissing someone as good as a statue. Needless to say, I flushed flame-red and bustled out of the hospital wing as fast as I could.

May Twentieth, 1993.

I apologize again for my lack of updates on life at Hogwarts, but there is dreadfully little to comment upon. I continue to strive for excellence in my schoolwork and continue to visit Penelope. I held council with Professor McGonagall this afternoon and she was starting to have more of an uplifted look on the current situation. She also believes that perhaps the attacks are over for good.

May Twenty-Ninth, 1993.

I have been shaken to my core today. There is so much to be said but I haven't the foggiest notion of how to proceed with saying it…

Ginevra, my young sister, was taken into the Chamber of Secrets today. I was frozen between crying and fainting and could not register what anyone was saying to me until I was summoned down to Professor McGonagall's office and told that Harry Potter and Ronald- my own brother!- had gone after her and rescued her from her death. It also came to light that Professor Lockhart's memory was tragically lost (most of the student populace was greatly relieved to hear this). To my chagrin, the exams for which I had studied so hard have been cancelled- but I hardly care anymore because of my relief that Ginevra is safe. We (meaning the whole Weasley family) are in great debt to Harry Potter, who is a very kind boy and modest, too. No wonder both Mother and Father are so taken with him; he seems to be a very well-behaved boy, safe for his snooping around. Ronald could learn a thing or two from Harry Potter.

Another wonderful thing has happened: the Mandrake Restorative Draught was administered to the Petrified students and they were returned to school. A feast was called and Penelope ran up after it had ended and kissed me in the corner of the Great Hall. I thought it highly inappropriate at first, but since nobody had been watching, I responded (not too enthusiastically, of course, for propriety's sake), and I walked her to her common room, holding her hand all the way. I kissed her goodnight. I told her I loved her. She smiled.


End file.
